


Upon the open road

by mapi_littleowl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Sub!Dean Winchester, Butt Plugs, D/s, Dean cries a bit, Dom!Top!Sam Winchester, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Sam is a Little Shit, Sibling Incest, but it's fully consensual so that's okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 05:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapi_littleowl/pseuds/mapi_littleowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the deal: from one destination to the next Dean had to wear a plug for the whole time, and if he behaved and followed Sam's instruction well he eventually got to come once they reached the next motel. Sometimes Sam insisted to drive, sometimes he gave Dean a choice. Sometimes he allowed him to race to their destination, most of the time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upon the open road

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for an Italian Challenge (which incidentally also accepts works in English, yay them), the [COW-T 4](http://maridichallenge.livejournal.com/72357.html) @[maridichallenge](http://maridichallenge.livejournal.com/) for Mission 4, prompt Incest.
> 
> Please, check the tags: if anything even remotely squicks/triggers you, please don't read. If you think tags should be added, let me know. I just hope you guys like it at least a little bit! :)

The music was blasting in the car playing Dean's favorites one after another, but he couldn't bring himself to enjoy them, too caught up into trying to drive under speed limit and plotting Sam's murder. The younger Winchester was resting comfortably against his back-seat, his knee hopping up and down in synch with the music while he enjoyed the scenery out of his window and made random comments about the countryside and the weather and whatnot, to which Dean would simply reply with low, unarticulated growls.

Sometimes Sam let that slide, sometimes he pressed to obtain full sentences from him. "Uh? What was that?"

Dean huffed, his cheeks pink and eyes watering. "It's gonna take a while -" he paused to catch a breath and Sam chuckled evilly. Dean tried to ignore that and continued: "Why don't you take a nap? I'll wake you up when we reach town."

Sam raised both eyebrows and cocked his head to the side as if he was actually considering his suggestion and Dean allowed himself to hope for a brief moment his plan would work. In the end he had always been a trusting fool.

"Nah, don't think so," Sam said cheerfully as Dean lowered his head miserably. "I'm well rested and, more importantly, I cannot risk you being distracted and accidentally break speed limit while I'm asleep." He stressed the word "accidentally" and Dean knew he had seen right through him, which made him feel more miserable. He clung at the wheel, trying to ignore Sam's gaze on him.

Sam looked at him for a long moment, maybe expecting something from Dean – a word of agreement, an explanation, an apology, maybe, but Dean said nothing and Sam exhaled dramatically.

"What about you?" He asked with blatant fake concern as his lips twitched to keep his smile at bay. "You need to rest a bit? The offer's still on, if you want me to drive at your place."

Dean licked his reddened bottom lip and shook his head. A gulp escaped his mouth when the car bounced over the unleveled asphalt and Dean rolled his eyes up his head trying to stop the shaking of his arms and knees.

"Yeah. I'll pass."

Because worse than being forced to drive respecting the speed limit in a bad paved road with a plug up his ass that hit his prostate every time he just shifted a little on his seat was letting Sam drive with him in this condition. Dean knew. He would drive even slower (Dean was just barely under the speed limit), run over every little hole in the road and let the car bounce and stall every way he could, just in order to make the wait excruciately long and painful.

This was the deal: from one destination to the next Dean had to wear a plug for the whole time, and if he behaved and followed Sam's instruction well he eventually got to come once they reached the next motel. Sometimes Sam insisted to drive, sometimes he gave Dean a choice. Sometimes he allowed him to race to their destination, most of the time he didn't.

He just loved seeing Dean tremble and squirm, watching his eyes dilating as the bulge of his jeans grew and grew, he loved the way he bit into his bottom lip when he just wanted to scream in frustration, the little tears that formed in the corner of his eyes and that he stubbornly didn't shed.

"Suit yourself," Sam said, unable to keep the hunger from his voice. His jeans were getting tighter and tighter, but he was patient. He could wait. He could make this good. He considered going back to the view outside the window to distract himself from the sight of his brother panting hard, but his eyes dropped on the dash of the car and he frowned.

"Dean," he warned, but when the other didn't seem to get it he huffed and slapped Dean thigh. 

He hopped on his seat at the contact, then the car bounced and Dean screamed, his eyes shut and for a second Sam was afraid he was going to do something stupid like putting them off the road or coming in his pants, but Dean regained control fast (and Sam felt a warm wave of pride at the pit of his stomach at that) and looked at him with his eyes wide open.

"What the hell, Sam?"

"Speed limit," he said and Dean whined miserably as he followed his gaze.

"Oh, come on, it's just a inch above... give me leash!" Sam frowned severely and Dean licked his lips. This was the perfect time to shut up and do what he was told, but that damned thing in him was just positioned in the _perfect_ angle, and it was teasing him mercilessly, and they had been driving for hours – he just couldn't take it anymore.

"Come on, Sammy, please!"

Sam's face froze in a terrifying expression and Dean felt his stomach drop to his knees. He wasn't gonna come out of this sane, he could tell.

"Here's what we'll do," Sam said with a soft voice, "you will drive slow and nice without further complaints, and I will try and forget you just called me _Sammy_. How about this?"

Dean was too stubborn to weep, so he didn't. He inhaled deeply, raised his foot from the accelerator until he was at acceptable speed and nodded deeply. "Yeah. Deal."

Sam smiled. "Good."

He draw circles with his thumb over his jeans and Dean hissed, held his breath and buckled his hips upward a little, but the car kept its current speed and Dean said nothing, so Sam eventually patted his thigh supportively and turned his head to the window again, commenting how the sky was getting darker with clouds to which Dean replied with a full sentence and wasn't that just perfect?

They drove for another hour, mostly without speaking. The air in the car was hot and heavy, the high music barely a buzz in the back of their minds, and when their destination of choice finally welcomed them they both sighed in relief, even if Sam managed to keep it mostly under his breath.

They entered town and Dean was racing a bit but Sam didn't say anything about it. Only, a couple of minutes after he touched Dean's thigh again and ordered him: "Pull over here on the right."

Dean moaned in relief and raised his eyes to catch the motel Sam has picked, but there was none on the road. Dean frowned and opened his mouth to say something when he saw it. A Gas'n'Sip, exactly at their right. That was where he was supposed to stop the car.

His shoulders fell and his voice was shacking when he said: "We are full of gas, Sam."

Sam nodded in agreement. "True. But I want a soda."

Dean licked his lips. "We have soda in the truck--"

"That true, too, but I want to buy a new one and, moreover, I need to hit the bathroom. Any other useless complaints or can I go?"

Dean batted his eyelashes and a tear travelled down his cheek. Sam caught it with his thumb and licked it away. Then smiled. "You are doing great. Just hold on for a little longer. If you want you can stretch your legs. Just don't touch yourself, okay?"

"Okay," he replied weakly and Sam got off the car, making sure to have his erection covered by his jacket before he entered the store. Dean looked at him approaching the counter and talking quickly with the cashier before he walked to the back of the place with a steady step, probably directed to the bathroom.

Dean sighed, both desperate and angry. The son of a bitch wasn't just gonna take a piss, he was sure of it. He could see him in his mind, looming over a barely decent toilet, his pant lowered just below his hips, one hand against the wall to steady himself and the other around his large, hard, red cock, pumping fatly and efficiently, his eyes closed and lips parted as pleasure waved over him. He could picture his hips thrusting lightly back and forth into his hand as if he was thrusting inside Dean or his mouth - then his shoulders would tense, his head instantly heavy, this hands warm and sweaty and he would come with big sprouts in the toilet with Dean's name hovering his full, reddened lips.

Dean hit his head with his hand. Yeah, because thinking about Sam jacking off was totally gonna help him right now. He tried to relax, to push those images out of his mind while his cock throbbed impatiently in his pants. He thought about getting out of the car just to stretch his legs a second, but then he noticed his jeans were stained with precome and thought that he had almost adjusted to the damn plug: what would happen if he got up?

He breathed in and out and stole a glance at the store. Sam had reappeared and he looked as if nothing had happened, but dean could tell, from the way his steps were more secure and his shoulder line relaxed that something had definitely happened.

He had a dark bottle in hand, but he was still lingering in the shop, walking aimlessly from aisle to aisle, then he stopped, walked back and picked something Dean couldn't see. He walked around a little more just because he could and then finally went to the cashier. He paid and exchanged pleasantries with the guy at the desk with the sole purpose to make Dean suffer and then finally got out with a white plastic bag.

Sam approached the car with a smile and put his purchase on the back seat before he sat once again next to Dean who huffed and started the car.

"You not going to drink your soda?"

"Nah, I'm good. Why, you want a sip?"

Dean just shook his head. "Where to?"

"The cashier in there told me there's a nice motel a couple of blocks down the road on our left. I say we go there."

Dean nodded and said nothing. Instead he turned the wheel and drove following Sam's instructions that led them to a nicely looking motel with bright colored curtains. The parking lot was blessingly empty and Dean parked where Sam told him, as far as he could from the motel.

This time, Sam insisted Dean came with him, so he did. He struggled to get on his feet and closed his jacket over his erection as he somehow dragged his steps behind his brother. They were received by a tall, gentle looking man who was giving Sam their key when Dean finally reached them. The man looked at Dean and he flushed under the stare. He knew what he looked like right now, and it was a very dignified position.

"You okay?" He asked cautiously, not sure if he was supposed to be worried or embarrassed.

Dean couldn't really bring himself to form words, so Sam helpfully butted in. "He's fine. Mostly. He just hurt his leg along the way."

The man didn't seem to be buying it, but said: "I see. Does he need a doctor? I can call in."

"We're good," Sam replied and moved to drag a possessive arm around Dean's waist. "You don't need to worry."

The man snorted but nodded nonetheless. Whether he believed them or not, he seemed more inclined to let them be than risk trouble, and a moment after Sam was dragging Dean away and up the stairs to their room. He opened it, switched on the lights, then as Dean walked in he closed the door and they were alone again.

Dean eyed the bed but didn't move. Didn't have the time, because before he could even process any thought Sam was on him, holding his face in his hands and kissing the air out of his lungs.

"Oh, my God, Dean, you did... You were incredible. I swear, I was sure you were gonna snap. Look at you," he whispered between kisses, and Dean just took it, his hands desperately hung at Sam's sleeves.

"You looked amazing. Amazing, really." He caressed his face with his thumbs, never stopping kissing him. "I bet it was driving you insane -- it looked like that. Your face is so red, and your eyes so liquid, you know, you look at your best like this, so full and desperate to come."

"Sam," Dean plead, and the other kissed his forehead at ease.

"I jacked off back at the store," Sam said and Dean just _shouted_. Sam kissed his lips. "Thinking about you, in the car, obediently waiting for me. You did, didn't you. You been so good. So good for me."

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. Sam, Sam, _please_."

Sam shushed him with another kiss and then another, until Dean was a trembling mess in his arms, his face red and teary, and Sam finally put some space between them and helped him out of his jacket and guided him toward the bed.

Dean fell face first and Sam climbed his back and left kisses on his neck, biting his skin and licking his sweat away while Dean pushed his hips back against his groin, getting a satisfied moan in response.

Sam didn't waste time undressing him properly. He positioned himself steadily behind him and opened his fly, dragging both his pants and underwear down at his knees. Dean moaned as his cock jumped up against his stomach and Sam behind him licked his lips and murmured praise as he traced the outline of the toy with his fingertip, teasing Dean's rim gently.

"Sam? Sam, please, please, let me -- let me come. Please. I can't --"

Sam kissed his neck, the outline of his ear, and after a moment he gripped his hand tight around the toy and slowly, ever so slowly he pulled out. He licked his lips at the lewd sounds coming from the lube stained toy and his brother and when Dean started begging him again he took a deep breath and slammed the thing back.

Dean screamed, his face pressed in the pillow that received his sweat and tears and saliva, and Sam did it again. Dragged out slowly and then pushed it in hard, keeping the angle good so every time the tip of the plug would reach and hit Dean's prostate. He kept this rhythm for a while, drinking Dean's moans and cries and pleas, then he started moving faster and faster, fucking him with the toy hard and steadily.

Dean arched his back and pushed his hips backwards, fucking himself on the toy; Sam let him and kissed the side of his face, tracing the tears, biting his jaw line softly, his throat harder and Dean moaned a litany of _Sams_ and _God_ and _please, do it, just do it, come on, fuck me, fuck me, please_.

Sam shushed him, always moving the toy in and out from his body. "Maybe later," he said, his warm breath pressed against Dean's ear. "Later, I will fuck you alright, so hard you'll have a limp for _days_. God, you should see yourself. You're taking it so fucking well."

"Sam."

"Sht, it's okay. You are doing great. You wanna come?"

Dean cried when Sam turned the thing inside him viciously and gripped at the pillow tight, nodding.

"Tell me, Dean. You wanna come?"

"I -- Yeah. Yeah, I wanna come so bad. Sam, please, I can't, I need --" His words ended up turning into a desperate cry when Sam put his free hand between his legs and grabbed his dick. He started stroking it, hard and fast in synch with the thrusts of the toy, and Dean moaned and cried, his voice muffled in the pillow when Sam told him to be more quiet, or everyone would hear him, and they would know what was going on here, what a huge slut he was, how good he was at taking it, and then they'd want some, too, because he was so pretty like this, and it was so easy to fuck his puffy, stretched hole right now.

Dean didn't last much longer. He came screaming, hips buckling desperately, back arched impossibly, then he fell on the mattress, his breath heavy, regular and satisfied. Sam smiled and poked at his side to see if he was still there, but Dean shifted lightly and after a second he was drifting off, snoring softly.

When he woke up, hours later, he felt relaxed, warm and pleasantly sore. He stretched like a big cat and yawned, still laying in bed. He cautiously turned on the side, then on his back. The ceiling was a soft tone of white and he stood there, watching it in silence until his other senses slowly turned on and he heard a noise from the bathroom – probably Sam under the shower – so he got up, regretting it the second his ass was pressed against the mattress.

"Fuck," he whispered, throat sore, but right now he was too awake to lay back again so he shifted until he sound a more comfortable position and tried to distract himself inspecting the room. It was an average room with nice pictured on the wall, a small TV, and -- he looked at the bedside table and froze when he noticed an open package placed on it. He stretched his neck to see inside, to make sure, and then a stupidly happy grin made his way across his face.

Sam had bought him pie. And not just some pie. Fricking _apple pie_. He felt something warm and heavy in his chest and he inhaled deeply, deciding he could actually use some more sleep until Sam got out of the bathroom, then he'd think about something.

Today life was good.


End file.
